Serious Hiccups
by HoloDragon
Summary: The next case is over, that means Sherlock can finally eat again. What happens when we get a look at a little domestic life of Sherlock and John? Awkward beginnings and new territory for both boys. Most likely OOC. It's not that wonderful, but worth a shot! One Shot. No particular time frame. BoyxBoy don't like, don't leave hate.


**Oh my gosh, new story, how amazing. I just recently got into Sherlock, finished the whole series in like... Three days. I want a new season now. Anyways! I just wanted to get back into the swing of things. Been so busy. Anyways, here's what I came up with if John and Sherlock were to just randomly get together.**

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A case has just ended, which means Sherlock will once again eat something. I watch him carefully nurse a slice of toast, my eyes roll without really thinking of it. "It's not like the toast will kill you, Sherlock."

He glares lightly at me, "John, I've not eaten in three days, if I inhale this toast without a single breath of hair, like a starving dog, then I will become ill."

I purse my lips in thought, initially I want to smack him and say it's his own bloody fault. Fighting with Sherlock Holmes is always pointless because he doesn't understand, then I feel like I have to teach him like a child. That happens, or he calls me stupid, I storm off, or he changes the subject completely to jab at my lack of romantic endeavors. "I'm not holding your hair." Is the best answer I can come up with.

I turn on my heels and head to refill my coffee mug. A good twenty minutes later, Sherlock is digging through the fridge, "John?"

"Hm?" I don't look up from my laptop, but tilt my head slightly so he knows I'm listening.

He sighs dramatically, "Where are the eggs?"

I glance up at the window and knit my eyebrows together, "Eggs?"

"Yes, are you deaf?"

My face droops into an annoyed gimmick as I turn in my chair, "You used them all last week in your experiment."

"I need eggs." He snaps taking a step back. "I want eggs."

"You used them all." I shrug and turn back to the computer. "Eat something else."

My coat is then thrown on my head, "No, we're going to the store."

"You… In a store." I chuckle, "Impossible."

"Let's go." He says through clenched teeth.

My eyes clench tight as I realize, Sherlock is in child mode. Am I this grown man's mother? "Jesus. Fine. Let's go." I have to admit that I actually like spending time with him. Sherlock Holmes goes to the supermarket. Not a bad idea actually. I wonder how my readers will react to that one.

This tall dark man looks so out of place in the brightly lit aisles of the store. Children actually cower in fear or stare. I'm grinning like an idiot because he looks so completely at a loss. His eyebrows are furrowed as he examines a box of cereal. "You can't deduct a box."

Instead of replying he simply holds his hand up to me, the signal for me to stop talking. I sigh and begin to chuckle lightly. Slowly he turns to me looking rather pissed, gray eyes settle into a familiar glare, "Do you find this funny?"

I chuckle a little harder, "Maybe a little… Sherlock Holmes, picking out cereal." He gives me a deadpan look, but his eyes stop glaring. The gray turns slightly green as he starts to giggle a little. "I can't wait until you have to pick out milk and vegetables."

Sherlock breaks into his usual grin and then chuckles a little, "Shut up you git."

We laugh like two small children for at least a minute as people walk around us. A mother glares as she walks past us. Unsuccessfully we try to act like adults and quiet our giggling. "I'm so sorry." I manage to gasp out between chuckles to the offended woman. "We must still be sleep deprived."

"Get a room!" Someone yells from the end of the lane as we still giggle like idiots.

Sherlock can't hide the slight blush at that man's words as our giggling dies down. I watch him carefully studying his expression. Running hands through his hair quickly, he tosses the box at me and then continues walking. My eyes follow him as his back is a little straighter now. I'm starting to wonder if maybe everyone's gay remarks about the two of us, actually bother him. Normally he's indifferent, or he doesn't react when people say things about the two of us. I've probably missed something but dismissed it as, he doesn't understand what they're actually saying. I may have underestimated him.

When I find him again, he's staring at the canned vegetables. "Why doesn't one just purchase fresh produce?"

I shrug and study his face, now that I'm possibly aware that it does bother him. "Some people find it easier to just, warm these up. It's almost the same effect."

"Look at the sodium content…" He tosses the can to me and I give him a confused look, "Anyone could make a better batch of green beans with less sodium."

I toss it back to him and smile gently, "Okay Mr. Health Nut."

"What is that supposed to mean?" He looks slightly hurt and now I feel bad.

Damn him. My heart clenches a little, "I'm just kidding Sherlock. Come on, let's get some beans and eggs." Sherlock follows behind me for once as I walk the tiled floor. It's strange, I know more about some things than him, that's such a first. Unless it was astronomy. "How did you ever manage to shop when you were living by yourself?"

I toss some beans into my basket and head towards the eggs. Sherlock falls into step beside me and rubs the back of his neck, "I had someone else do it for me… Sometimes Molly, sometimes Mike. That or I didn't eat."

I roll my eyes, "Digesting slows you down." That has got to be the most ridiculous line I've ever heard him use. I'm starting to wonder if he's going to start becoming so weak that he won't be able to take care of himself at all. His ribs aren't showing, yet.

"Correct." He says with a deadpan voice, like it's the most obvious thing in the world.

I rub my face with my free hand and grab some cans before walking towards the eggs. This idiot makes me worry too much. "You should take better care of yourself."

Sherlock gives me that look, it's his version of rolling his eyes without actually doing the act itself. "John, I'm perfectly capable of taking good care of myself."

"Cause you've been doing a swell job of that!" I snap and check a few cartons of eggs before finding a non broken dozen. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to yell." I can tell by his stance that I've upset him. He may think he's the hardest man in the world to crack, but I _know_ him. I wonder how that makes him feel. Knowing that I'm the only one who can read him, besides maybe Mycroft to an extent. Sherlock walks beside me observing the people around us. This is what he does when I've upset him, he finds something better to do.

As I finish the shopping, Sherlock approaches the counter. When I head for self checkout he snags my arm, "Perhaps to avoid another screaming match with the machine, you should go for the more humanly option."

I glare lightly, "Fine."

He gives me a small satisfied smirk before leading the way. Shopping with Sherlock can now be crossed off the list of things I want to do again. Once back at the flat, I put things away while Sherlock grabs his violin. For the longest time he doesn't play anything, simply examines the instrument. I stare at him for a moment, wondering what's going on in that fat head of his. "Sherlock?"

Slowly he turns to me, "Yes?"

I blush and set my lips into a tight line, "Are you alright?"

His stance is off, his eyes are wondering, the violin has yet to be played. Finally those cold grey eyes land on me, "I'm fine."

I study his face as it morphs into a mask, it's so strange to see, now that I can see it. "Liar." I mutter.

His eyebrows raise in questioning, "What?"

"Nothing." I make tea and bring him a cup, he still hasn't moved. Just staring at the aged and polished wood of the instrument. "Here, tea."

His eyes lock on the cup, "You've made it just the way I like."

I feel a very puzzled look cross over my face, "Uh yeah… I know how you like your tea?"

Sherlock has the ghost of a smile on his face as he gazes at the steaming cup, "Thank you… It's nice."

Suspicion starts to eat at my mind but my heart swells, he appreciates me… But why? "To have someone know how to make your tea? Mrs. Hudson makes your tea just fine."

He frowns now and I feel kind of like an ass, "I suppose she does."

I roll my eyes and allow a smile to work onto my face, "You're welcome Sherlock. Are

you going to play, or are you going to continue to stare at your instrument?"

He shakes his head before placing it back down gently, "No, I think I'm going to eat

something else." I smile wide at that and practically shove him into the kitchen. "John." He pulls out some ingredients. "I'm not that great a cook."

"You'll have to ask for help." I smile, "I won't just do it for you."

Sherlock's face tints a light shade of pink, "Fine."

I'm amused when he walks towards the stove and doesn't quite understand how to work it. I guess he deemed it not useful and put it away in his mind palace. After a long minute, he turns the dial and looks back at me slightly nervous (I can tell by the way his eyes study my features). My face forms into a comforting smile as he continues to scramble his eggs. I quickly clear my throat as he goes to just pour in the eggs. He turns and pauses in his actions. "What?"

His eyes scan my face, "Ask properly." I gently prod, "You have to learn to ask."

A long deep sigh is let out of his lungs, "What am I not doing right John, could you

please help?"

I'm shocked by the gentleness of his words as he doesn't meet my eyes. "You need to

put butter in the pan first."

He does as I say and then drops the mix into the pan. That really is the only mistake he makes as he cooks. I feel like an idiot when I smile proudly at him. My mind is still caught on his comment about his tea. Why would he… It's Sherlock, do I need to try and pick his brain? Maybe I do. Maybe I want to.

I watch him not eat the eggs carefully. He snarfs them down a little faster than he probably should. A moment later he has the hiccups. He's muttering curses in different languages between the small contractions in his throat. The high pitched noise is so strange from the normal deep voice that I burst out laughing.

Sherlock glares at me, "Stop that, _hic_ , it's not funny, _hic_!"

I cover my mouth and attempt to stop but end up laughing harder when he whines in annoyance before making that adorable sound again. "Sorry Sherlock." Wait… I just called something Sherlock Holmes does adorable. I really need to stop thinking like that. Sherlock is married to his work and he doesn't find interest in anything of the sort. He said it wasn't really his area.

The man is asexual. No doubt. Well maybe a little. I'm hopeful. " _HIC!_ John!"

I blink and look back at him with confusion written across my face, "What?"

"You started laughing, _hic_ , and then you stopped abruptly and _hic_ , made a serious face. _Hic_ , if I didn't know any better, _hic_ , I'd say, _hic_ , that you were in your own, _hic_ , bloody fucking mind palace, _HIC_!"

The English cuss makes me stare at him in shock. My face quickly goes soft as I realize, I'm losing the battle against him. Sherlock Holmes has won my heart. "Relax, getting upset won't make them go away, it makes them worse."

I get him a glass of water before sitting in my chair. The hiccups don't let up even after he's quickly drained the glass of it's contents. For ten more minutes, Sherlock sits on the couch pouting about his occasional hiccup. I'm starting to get annoyed with him as well. My eye twitches as he watches me write. My fingers fly across the keyboard only to delete it all because my train of thought is stopped at the hic.

Patience is starting to wear thin in the flat. Sherlock is just as annoyed as I am, with himself. "For God's sake!" He snaps at himself. Just as we think they're gone, he lets out a soft, " _Hic._ "

"Damn." I mutter and rub my face, "Goddammit."

" _Hic._ John. _Hic_. Help."

Something in me completely snaps and he's acting just as weird today, so it's justified. My actions are completely fine and just whatever, I'm on my feet and I drag Sherlock up so he's standing. His eyes study mine. I know he's trying to figure out what I'm thinking. "Best cure… Old myth… Shock." Common sense is catching up very quickly with impulsive behavior. I swallow hard and look at his lips before studying his face. Those tight lips open slightly as his diaphragm jumps and the small noise comes out.

"John, what, _hic_ , about shock?" He's nervous, I can tell from his voice.

Grey meets brown as I lick my lips, "Shocking you." Just do it John. Don't be a scared little girl, just do it. Suddenly, and it's more suddenly than I thought, I place my hands on his cheeks and pull him down so that his lips collided with mine. Our eyes are both wide open, I'm trying to read whether he's upset or is okay with this idea. I'm feeling about as surprised as he looks. I didn't actually think I'd do it.

About as quickly as it happens it's over. I pull away no longer able to meet his eyes. The sense of dread washes over me. Excuses, think of excuses. Sherlock takes an extra step back, "Uh… Um… John?"

The words come out of my mouth quickly, "You're not hiccuping, there you go, shock. It's done." My face is burning, I literally feel like the apartment is on fire.

Sherlock's face is also a lovely shade of pink as he studies the floor. "Thank you. Thank you for uh, curing the hiccups."

I nod vigorously and purse my lips before quickly turning and settling back into my chair. Sherlock stays standing and I try not to notice. He's deducting me. I need to control myself. Tuck away these useless feelings for Sherlock Holmes. I turn to him slightly, his eyes have small tears welling as he continues to stare at me. "Sherlock?" The man before me has reverted into his small childlike ways. He tends to do that after he's finally slept and finally eaten something. Why is he crying then? "Sherlock?" I ask again after no reply.

He shakes his head, looks me straight in the eyes as the tears get fatter. "I'm fine. I'm going to bed. Don't bother me."

My eyes follow him for a moment, "Sherlock? It's only one in the afternoon."

The door slams closed as he's already gone. I settle back into my chair, "What did I miss?" Sherlock doesn't make a single sound from his bedroom for the better part of an hour. I'm starting to be a little worried. Cautiously I make my way to his door. The soft sound of his normal sleeping cannot be heard, instead I hear something worse. Sniffling. My fist knocks gently on the wooden door, and when I don't hear anything, I knock again.

Sherlock Holmes does not respond, not even when I bang on the door and beg him to let me in. I sigh and run my hands over my face, "Sherlock Holmes, if you do not open this door, I will bust it down." He doesn't reply once again.

The door opens just as I'm about to plant my foot and kick it in. Sherlock's eyes are red as he looks at me sadly. My heart breaks and I feel my own eyes are beginning to leak tears I'd left unshed. "What do you want?" His voice is harsh as he says that, which causes me to suck in a sharp breath.

I feel the dampness in my eyes, "You've shut yourself up."

He rolls his eyes, "Hardly worth going over. Please, leave me alone."

"No."

Strong eyebrows pull in to make a very confused expression, "What?"

My throat feels thick so I clear it and shake my head as well. Too much noise in this brain of mine. "Sherlock, I can-"

"You obviously don't reciprocate feelings for me, it was just your little tack to stop the hiccuping, thank you. I should have known better really, I guess I always miss one thing. Perhaps it would be best to just, take a break away from each other for awhile. I really don't mind. It was I, who, who, was wrong."

He bloody well thinks that I don't feel anything for him… Wait… Back up, he just said that I don't reciprocate feelings for him? Oh, oh, you idiot. My first reaction is to swing the door open and shove him back inside until I can reach him. "Oh you IDIOT!"

Shock is written across his face gently, it's not a face he uses frequently, but it's good enough. "What?"

My hands smack his chest, "You think I kissed you just for the bloody hiccups?!"

"Well." His eyes move rapidly, as if he's trying to go over a complicated problem. "Didn't you?" Our eyes lock and I realize that I'm grinning like an idiot. It takes me a moment but I clear my throat and straighten myself. "Well, didn't you?" Sherlock's voice is less sure, he's not confident. We're both treading into unknown territory.

"Sherlock. I didn't do that just for the hiccups, you told me once you were married to your work. I didn't want to make you choose, I didn't want you to be unhappy." I'm so frustrated right now that he's so much taller than I am. This sucks. I can't really reach. "You always miss something."

He flushes and then runs his hands through his hair, "When did you… when did your…"

I shuffle my feet and then stand up straight, do this like a man John. "Pretty much from the day I met you."

Suddenly he's gripping my face tightly and moves close enough that our heads are centimeters away. "So your pupils have practically been dilated this entire time, unless you were angry. I ignored the signs. I was not able to solve the most simple and personal case of all."

Gently I place my hands over his, "It's also because your body does the same thing when you're near me." I turn my hand so it's taking his pulse, "See?" He stares at me wide eyed and nervous. "Relax, we won't do anything you're uncomfortable with."

He gives me a grateful small smile, "Thank you."

"This isn't really your area?"

Sherlock Holmes looks adorable when he's embarrassed, "No, not really."

I peck him on the lips quickly and offer my arm, "Now that your hiccups are cured, and you are ready for some food, how about, we run to the store."

"Why? We just went this morning." His eyes search mine once again.

My lips pull up into a smirk, "I think we should pick something fancy up, a bottle of wine, maybe some form of steak. Let's have… A date." The word feels foreign when in the context of Sherlock Holmes. He's unsure of himself as well, I never see that look for this long of a time. Slowly he takes my arm and rolls his eyes at me, "Our first date."

"Fine, it's a date, a proper date." He smiles and we walk to the coat rack.

Once down to the entrance of the apartment, Mrs. Hudson smiles at us knowingly. I look to Sherlock who is starting to look more comfortable. "It's not like much will change." She winks, "But I'm glad you've finally worked it all out."

"We don't have any idea what you're talking about Mrs. Hudson." He smirks and then looks down to me, "I do feel that earplugs are going to be in your stocking for Christmas this year." My face turns horrified as he begins to chuckle darkly, "If you understand what I mean."

"Oh Sherlock!" She blushes like the older woman she is. "So bold!"

I usher him out the door, "We'll be back Mrs. Hudson."

Once our apartment door closes I look up at him and shake my head, "You were serious." He looks out across the sky and then back to me. "Oh God."

"Don't start what you can't finish Dr. Watson." He kisses my cheek before quickly turning away, "I don't form attachments easily. Please…" His voice drops deep into his chest, "Don't break me."

I beam proudly before turning to the street as well, "I wouldn't dream of it." Our hands slowly intertwine as we hail for a cab.

"The only thing that could make this better… Would be a good murder."

"Sherlock!"

Always working, always ruining the moment, always my Sherlock.

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 **Okay, that might have been bad. I'm a little rusty you'll have to forgive me. I just found the time to start writing again now that it's summer and I'm out of high school. College here I come. Anyways as per usual, please review, fav, follow! Any feedback is always welcome and appreciated! :) Thanks for reading! \\(^.^)/ hugs**


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